


Pocket (Sequel to Ticket)

by shlynn



Series: SterekFlashFic on Tumblr [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confusion, Ficlet, Hot Pockets, Idiots, M/M, Sexual Tension, Tumblr, cop, cop!Stiles, deputy stilinski, naty-neko, prompt, sterekflashfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shlynn/pseuds/shlynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek waits.</p>
<p>He waits, his phone - which he usually keeps on silent, just on principle - turned up as high as it’ll go, the battery always kept above 60%. Brings it into the bathroom with him as he showers, as he pees -</p>
<p>“Ew, Derek, that’s gross, even for you,” Laura gripes,</p>
<p>- but there’s nothing.</p>
<p>Derek waits three weeks. And Stiles doesn’t call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pocket (Sequel to Ticket)

**Author's Note:**

> naty-neko asked me to continue "ticket" for her, so here it is!
> 
> this really ran away from me, a bit. i wanted to toss the sheriff in there at the end, but it seemed awfully long for a flash fic, so i ended it where i thought i could.

Derek waits.

He waits, his phone - which he usually keeps on silent, just on principle - turned up as high as it’ll go, the battery always kept above 60%. Brings it into the bathroom with him as he showers, as he _pees_ -

“ _Ew_ , Derek, that’s gross, even for you,” Laura gripes,

\- but there’s nothing.

Derek waits three weeks. And Stiles doesn’t call.

He’s relieved at first, then annoyed. What the hell was the point of all that harassment if nothing was going to come of it? When the irritation wears off, he’s just plain bothered.

Why won’t Stiles call?

He’s absolutely not pouting about it, Laura, _leave him alone_ , and he tries to let it roll off his shoulder - really, he does. But he can’t help it if he straightens his posture anytime he sees the uniform, reflexively eases his foot off the gas whenever he catches sight of a squad car.

Isaac’s in the car with him one time when he slows like that, asks Derek why he’s driving like a grandma.

His response, a grumble and a lead foot, end up getting him pulled over. His heart is hammering in his chest as he adjusts his rear-view mirror to get a better view, but the lights on the cop car behind him make it hard to see the driver.

"Shit," Isaac groans, slumping into his seat. "What the hell, Derek?"

Derek whips around to silence Isaac with a glare, and by the time he turns back around there’s a cop walking lazily up to his window.

It’s not Stiles.

He gets a ticket.

Isaac looks cowed by the time Derek drops him off, as if the ticket was his fault, and admittedly Derek feels bad. He calls Laura and starts yelling his head off before he even realizes that that’s what he called for, but Laura just cackles at him back down the line.

"Baby bro, you’re kind of an idiot."

Derek grunts.

"Okay, first of all," Laura sighs, "Go buy Isaac some ‘I’m-sorry-for-being-a-grumpy-dick’ hot pockets. You know he’s like a kicked puppy, Derek, come on.

"Second of all," she continues, and Derek can hear the grin in her voice which means _bad news_ , “Why don’t you go buy some flowers for Officer Cutie-Pants? Better yet, some chocolates, from what I hear about his sugar intake.”

"Deputy," Derek corrects without thinking. Then, "What have you heard? Where?"

"Christ, Derek," Laura laughs, "Don’t get all defensive on me! Just, he comes into the cafe for super-sweet coffee every morning. I’m talking like, _disgustingly_ sweet, Der, enough syrup to shrivel your sad black soul.”

Derek grumbles. His soul is not sad and black.

"Just, get him something and give it to him like a goddamn adult." Apparently Laura’s patience has run out as she huffs at him from her end. "Quit sulking like it’s high school and he hasn’t answered your super secret love note. Jesus."

She hangs up.

He’s at the grocery store before he even realizes, feels the back of his neck flush as he tries to school himself into gift-buying mode.

Alright. Okay. I can do this. Chocolates.

He skulks through the candy section, going up and down the aisle exactly three times before realizing that  
a) he has no idea where Stiles lives.  
b) if he drops it off at the station, everyone will _know_.  
c) what the actual fuck, he’s not buying Stiles a box of goddamn chocolates.

So he stomps over to the frozen food section for Isaac’s hot pockets, grabbing the veggie ones he knows Isaac likes best, and slams the freezer door shut.

"Jesus Christ!"

Derek whips around in time to see some lanky jackass in over-sized plaid jump at the noise, knocking into a wire shelf displaying loaves of bread.

_What an idiot_ , Derek scoffs, and then the idiot turns around and it’s -

It’s Stiles.

A flurry of emotions run through Derek - surprise, embarrassment, settling on anger - as Stiles hastily tries to fix all the loaves of bread before straightening up and clearing his throat.

"Heeey, Der - Uh, Mr. Hale," Stiles says, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. His face is red in embarrassment, and the flush flows down his neck _distractingly_ -

_I need to go_ , is what Derek means to say, but what comes out is,

"Why haven’t you called me?"

Stiles chokes on nothing, what the hell, and his arm flies backward into the bread again. Three loaves hit the floor as his knuckles smack against the wire of the shelf. It sounds painful - Stiles’ hiss confirms it - and Derek snaps out to grab his hand before he thinks better of it.

"Fine, it’s -" Stiles’ laugh is high, strained when it comes out, "Fine, I’m. It’ll bruise, maybe, it’s totally, uh, fine."

Derek’s still holding Stiles’ hand, staring at his blushing face, when Stiles clears his throat. He drops his hand like fire.

"Right," he says, clenching his jaw, and he’s about to walk away when Stiles grabs his arm.

"I wanted to!" Stiles squeaks - looks horrified that he’s said it, and then keeps going, "Call you, I mean. I wanted to, but then I - it seemed silly? I just - I’m, ha, you know, and _you_ \- I mean. Right?”

Derek squints. What the _hell_.

"Stiles," he growls.

"I didn’t," Stiles seems to remember that he’s holding Derek’s arm suddenly - he drops it with a weird twitch and rubs his hand down his face. "I didn’t think you wanted me to."

His voice is quiet when he says it and Derek wants to throw his fucking hands in the air in frustration. This absolute _idiot_ -

"Why would I give you my number if I didn’t want you to call me?"

"I don’t know!" Stiles squawks, sounding shrilly with panic. "To get me to stop harassing you?!"

"That’s - That’s -" Derek lets out a loud groan. "The total opposite, that’s - it’s like, _inviting_ harassment.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide like saucers, his face red as a beet, and Derek cringes at how weird that sounded.

“ _Oh_.”

Stiles breathes it like a revelation, and Derek can’t help it, he snorts - gives up, really, and bends down to pick up the loaves Stiles knocked onto the ground. This absolute idiot.

Stiles catches up a second later, crouches down beside Derek and grabs a loaf himself.

"So," Stiles starts, "You, uh. You wanted me to call you?"

Derek sighs, can’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

"Yes, Stiles."

Stiles hums, and it sounds happy, but then he stills and seems to hesitate.

"Do you… Do you still want me to call you?"

Derek looks up, then, and realizes how close he and Stiles are to one another. They’re crouched together like they’re hiding, just the two of them, basically breathing the same air, and Derek realizes this would be - this is it, this would be the perfect time to give Stiles chocolates -

He thrusts the box he’s holding into Stiles’ arms, so forcefully it almost knocks him over. Stiles grunts and looks down at the box.

"Uh," Derek says.

"What?" Stiles asks.

Fuck.

"They’re… supposed to be chocolates." Derek says lamely.

"These, um. These are hot pockets."

Derek stands up abruptly, coughs, looks up at the ceiling and groans. Stiles stands up slowly in front of him.

"Derek… These are hot pockets." he repeats, and when Derek opens his eyes to peak at him, he looks like he’s about to burst out laughing.

"Yeah, I… I meant to get you chocolates."

Stiles does burst out laughing then, clear and bright and Derek wants to sink into the floor and float into the sky.

"These are not chocolates," he snorts, and Derek snatches the hot pockets back.

"Shut up."

"Are you giving me hot pockets instead? You haven’t even paid for them yet!"

"Stiles. Shut. Up."

Stiles doesn’t shut up, keeps laughing like a lunatic right in the middle of the grocery store, and even though his ears are burning, Derek can feel the corners of his mouth twitching. When Stiles is done, they share a grin.

"I’m actually… I’m getting these for a friend. As an apology." Derek admits.

"Yikes, a hot apocketology, eh?" Stiles says, and Derek snorts. "What’d you do?

"It’s a long story," Derek says, embarrassed. Then he remembers - "I got a ticket today."

"What? Oh man," Stiles is off in laughter again, and Derek decides he’d like to force that sound out of Stiles forever. "You just can’t catch a break!"

Derek laughs, bumps his shoulder against Stiles’.

"I like it better when you pull me over."

Stiles blushes, then looks thoughtful.

“ _Don’t_ start that up again,” Derek growls in warning, and Stiles schools his face into innocence. Derek sighs, “Just… Call me, instead.”

The goofiness drops, in that instant, and Stiles just looks at Derek - softly, warmly, and Derek almost kisses a _goddamn police officer_ in the middle of the grocery store.

"Yeah," Stiles murmurs, "I will."

He does.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me and send me your prompts on tumblr, pretty please!
> 
> sterekflashfic.tumblr.com


End file.
